by Monroe, Max
Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is manic as she asks, “Does a pirate happen to own this villa?”
“What?” I’m quite understandably confused.
“Well…uh…” she murmurs through heavy breaths. “There’s a pirate in the bathtub.”
“What?”
“A pirate,” she repeats. “In the bathtub.”
Is she speaking English right now? Or maybe Carey was right and I did hit my head.
Knowing there’s no other way, I set her gently to the side and head down the hall to figure out what in the hell she is talking about for myself.
Nothing makes sense until I step through the master bedroom and into the adjoining master bathroom. And then…it does.
Smack-dab in the middle of the large, Jacuzzi tub, surrounded by a bunch of fucking bubbles, is Brogan.
My insane brother—whom I haven’t seen since we landed in Italy—is in my bathtub and wearing nothing but a black eye patch over his left eye.
The pirate.
You have got to be kidding me.
“Theo!” he shouts and raises his glass of whatever he’s drinking into the air. “I had no idea you were going to be here, bud!”
“Pretty sure I could say the same thing about you.”
He grins, takes a drink, and then moves his eyes over to Lena. “Gorgeous day, huh?” he questions like this isn’t an incredibly weird way to meet someone and glances over his shoulder to peek out of the floor-to-ceiling windows behind the tub. “The sun is shining, and the sea is looking crystal clear.”
Lena bites her lip to fight her amusement.
“It’s a good thing you came today,” he adds. “Yesterday, we had a few thunderstorms roll through.”
Jesus Christ.
“Yesterday?” I question. “How long have you been here?”
“I came here right after our plane landed.”
I sigh and run a hand through my hair. Of course he’s staying at my house. “Glad to hear you figured out a place to stay.”
“I know, right?” he tosses back, completely oblivious to my tone. “Thank fuck Gianna was here to let me in.”
God. I’m going to have to give my housekeepers mugshots of this fucking guy with do not allow entry instructions.
“So, uh, I take it you two know each other?” Lena pipes up, and I look down at her, a sigh escaping my lips.
“You could say that.”
“I’m Brogan,” my brother chimes in and takes it upon himself to stand up and hold out his hand toward her. Water and bubbles drip off his body and onto the floor, and Lena squeaks out her surprise when those damn bubbles start to reveal far more than either one of us wants to see.
“Oh God,” she mutters and places a hand over her eyes. “I mean, it’s great to meet you…Brogan.” She clears her throat and uses the other hand to blindly search for his. When she finds it, she shakes it for all of one second before letting go. “I’m Lena.”
“It’s a real pleasure,” my brother says, not a care in the fucking world that his dick is halfway through its bubble circumcision.
“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, snagging a towel from the shelf behind me and launching it toward his chest. “How about you put your dick away, yeah?”
He glances down, sees his pirate sword, shrugs it off, and then leisurely wraps the towel around his waist. “I’m Theo’s brother, by the way,” Brogan adds. “But you can just call me Bro.”
Bro? Now he’s going by Bro?
The annoying thought is instant, but it’s quickly replaced by another, far more important one.
Shit. This certainly goes against the rules…
My back tenses in realization, and I brace myself for her reaction to finding out something that is, without a doubt, personal information. I’m surprised when a soft giggle escapes her throat, and I look down to find her smiling at my brother.
“So, let me get this straight…you’re Theo’s brother…” She scrunches her nose up as a laugh threatens to spill from her lips. “And you go by Bro?”
The Bro-man nods proudly. “It’s something new I’m trying, but I think we can all agree it has a nice ring to it.”
Lena’s tickled gaze meets mine, and I sigh.
Yeah. Trust me. I know.
“Okay, then,” I say, making the executive decision to end this situation before Brogan can spice it up even more with his eccentricity, and take Lena’s hand into mine. “While finding you in the bubble bath has been a real fucking treat, we’re going to leave you to the rest of your fun and go grab some lunch on the terrace.”
“That sounds like a plan, Theodore.” Brogan smiles. “And I’ll see you guys at lunch in a few.”
See you guys at lunch. Christ. He shouldn’t even fucking be here.
My patience completely gone, I don’t waste any time leading her out of the bathroom, through the master bedroom, and into the hallway.
But by the time we reach the main living room area, Lena can’t hold herself together anymore.
“Holy shit.” Laughter spills from her lips like a waterfall. “What in the hell just happened?”
“Good God.” I cringe, slightly unsure whether she’s amused or my brother’s antics have caused her to go temporarily insane. “I’m sorry you had to be subjected to that.”
“Subjected to it? Are you nuts? It was fantastic! I’m pretty sure I’m going to be laughing about this for the rest of my life.”
Her laughter is contagious, the sound of it almost certainly the undiscovered ingredient in the next breakout antidepressant, and before I know it, a smile is threatening to consume my face.
“A pirate in a bubble bath who happens to be your brother Brogan who also happens to go by Bro,” she rattles off the events, giggles spilling from her lips between each word. “Yeah. This might be one of my favorite days ever.”
Her words hit me straight in the chest, and all thoughts of strangling my brother disappear into thin air.
This woman.
She’s kind of crazy. Definitely unpredictable.
But fuck does she make me feel good.
Lena
Theo’s brother is by far the most eccentric person I have ever met in my life.
And, trust me, I’m in fashion and design school, for goodness’ sake. Most creative types are awesome weirdos.
But Brogan—or should I say, Bro—is a fucking gem of nuttiness.
The proof is in the bubble-bath meet-and-greet pudding.
“All right, Brogan. What’s with the eye patch?” Theo asks as we sit down to eat lunch on the expansive and downright breathtaking terrace.
The display of food sitting on the rustic wooden table is a foodie’s dream. The housekeeper, a gray-haired older woman by the name of Gianna, has set up quite the display of fresh veggies and mozzarella and cold pasta and enough paninis to feed half of Italy.
Add in the delightful limoncello, sangria, and the view, and…well, it’s stunning.
The coast and the mountains and the Italian sun all serve as a backdrop, and if I weren’t so fascinated by the pirate’s answer to Theo’s question, I’d probably just be lost in taking in the ambiance that is this villa.
Well, Theo’s villa.
I mean, he hasn’t told me that detail, but it’s pretty obvious at this point.
Fancy hotel stays in fancy suites and yachts and villas—I’m now absolutely certain Theo has the kind of money my father and my brother Cap have.
“You remember that time when we were kids?” Brogan asks, piling as much food as is physically possible onto his plate and plopping his now bathrobe-covered ass down into the chair across from mine.
“That time?” Theo mocks. “Oh. Yeah. That time.” I laugh as Theo rolls his eyes and adds, “You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”
“The time when I cut my corner with a potato chip.”
“Pretty sure you mean cornea,” Theo corrects.
“Yes!” Brogan nods and slaps the table with his pa
lm. “That.”
Oh my God, it just keeps getting better and better…
“Yeah.” Theo shakes his head on a half chuckle, half sigh. “I remember that.”
“Well, that’s pretty much what happened again,” Brogan explains as he shoves a forkful of pasta into his mouth. “But it was pizza crust this time. No big deal, though,” he adds as a few crumbs shoot out past his lips and back onto his plate. “Just gotta wear this for a few days, and then I’ll be all set.”
How does one man go about cutting his cornea with pizza?
Brogan might literally be the eighth wonder of the fucking world.
“Christ.” Theo scrubs a hand down his face. “When did this happen?”
“Yesterday, after Gianna made me some pizzas in the wood-burning oven for dinner.”
“By the way,” Theo adds, and sarcasm drips from his voice, “I’m so glad you found a place to stay.”
“Dude.” The pirate grins. “Me fucking too. I almost forgot how nice your villa is.”
Your villa, the words resonate in my mind.
So, I was right. This is his villa.
Hell, he really does have the kind of my money my father and brother have.
“Honestly, Theodore,” Brogan continues. “It’d do you some good to spend more time up here.”
Ever so slightly, Theo clenches his jaw, but when he forces a bite of pasta into his mouth, he masks it by chewing.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the brothers have an interesting relationship.
I glance between the two of them, and if it weren’t for their obvious genetic likeness—same jawline, same eye shape, same nose—I never would have guessed that they’re related.
Where Theo is all put together and not a weirdo, Brogan is a fucking weirdo and appears to make his decisions based solely off impulsivity.
God, Vicky would absolutely despise him, which honestly, kind of makes me like him more.
If Brogan ever walked into my mother’s house, she’d lose her fucking mind. Literally. She wouldn’t know what to do with this bathrobe-wearing pirate. His less-than-casual style and oblivious, zero-fucks-given attitude goes against pretty much everything that’s a priority for her.
Toss Brogan into one of my mother’s vapid, fake dinner parties, and I honestly think she’d spontaneously combust like a vampire after being stabbed with a garlic stake.
If only it were possible to make that situation occur…
There are so many questions I want to ask. So many random thoughts I want clarification on, but I realize that every single one of my questions is personal.
Every single one of them goes against our rules.
Pretty sure you mean your rules, you know, since you were the one who was so obstinate in establishing them in the first place, my brain taunts, and my chest grows tight with discomfort.
Son of a bitch. I do not need to be feeling things.
This is a rendezvous, not a freaking relationship.
Not serious. Just fun. End of story.
I lift my glass to my lips and wash down the foolish thoughts with a sip of Gianna’s homemade sangria. Distraction-mode officially engaged, it’s the perfect mix of sweet and sour and exactly what I need to keep myself out of my own damn head.
“So, Lauren, where are you from?” Brogan asks, and I look around the table to see who he’s talking to.
But it’s only the three of us. Me, Theo, and his brother, who is now looking at me as if he’s waiting for a response.
“Her name is Lena, numbnuts,” Theo corrects.
“No shit?” Brogan asks with a tilt of his head. “Are you sure it’s not Lauren?”
A very unladylike snort escapes my nose. “Pretty sure my name is Lena.”
“Man, I really thought it was Lauren.”
This guy. I swear. He’s too much.
“Unless my parents have been lying to me since birth, my name is Lena.”
“Ah well, miscommunication, I guess.” He brushes it off around a mouthful of food. “Anyway, where are you from?”
Theo grins at me with a gleam in his eye, and I laugh.
“Sorry, Bro, but there’s no specifics.”
Brogan’s eyebrows shoot to his forehead. “What does that mean?”
“It means exactly what you think,” I say without hesitation. “Theo and I are just enjoying time together. A rendezvous, so to speak.”
“So, let me get this straight…” Brogan looks back and forth between us. “You and my type A brother are just living in the moment.”
“Yeah.” I shrug. “I guess you could say that.”
A loud laugh leaves Brogan’s lips, and he slaps a hand down onto the table. “Well, fuck me sideways and call me Susie. That’s about the most surprising thing I’ve ever heard.”
Theo just rolls his eyes, but his brother doesn’t let up. His laughs turn into cackles, and he can’t seem to get himself together.
Apparently, my assumption about Theo was right. He is Mr. Serious.
Yeah. Until he’s with you…
My stupid brain starts to latch on to that idea a little too much, and I have to change the subject quickly before I get lost inside the fucking land mine that is apparently my own head.
Thankfully, Brogan has reined in his laughter and resumed eating his lunch like he didn’t just turn into a lunatic for five minutes straight.
“So, how long do you have to wear that eye patch?” Theo asks, thankfully changing the subject, and Brogan shrugs.
“A few days, I think. Hell if I know. The doc was giving me all of the instructions in Italian and I don’t speak the language, so it was kind of hard to really get the gist of what he was saying.”
Theo’s brows rise to his damn hairline. “Did he know that you don’t speak Italian?”
Brogan shrugs again. “Not sure.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “You didn’t tell him?”
“Nah.” He waves his fork in the air. “He was on a roll, and I didn’t want to slow him down. Got me in and out of there in less than an hour, which I gotta say, by emergency room standards, is fucking impressive.”
Theo and I share a knowing smile while Brogan abruptly jumps up from the table and heads into the kitchen to do god knows what.
“So, your brother is…interesting,” I whisper, and he smirks.
“Yeah. That’s a good word for him.”
“You two are quite the contrast.”
I think about my older brother Cap and me.
Both a bit wild, both spontaneous, both fully capable of speaking our minds, we are more alike than I’d care to admit.
But we’re also very different.
Whereas I’ve been flaky and indecisive when it comes to my career, Cap has always been unwavering and motivated, and he’s incredibly prideful when it comes to not relying on our family’s money.
When he turned twenty-one, he outright refused his trust fund, and once he set his sights on going to law school, he fucking did it. And not only that, but over the years, he’s established himself as one of the top corporate lawyers in the country.
I’ve utilized my trust fund and the generous high school graduation gift that is Jovial Grinds, the coffee shop my father bought me when I was eighteen. It’s located back home, in Chelsea. And for a few years, all I did was pick up shifts there while I flitted about from one career idea to the next.
But now, I’m trying to be decisive.
I’m trying to follow through with my dreams of becoming a fashion designer.
I’m trying to start a life for myself without the help of my father and his penchant for always making things easy on me financially.
For the last nine months, I’ve been resolute in my path, focusing solely on classes and my career and staying far, far away from distractions.
And yet, here you are, getting distracted again, my brain reminds me.
Panic makes my blood rush as I work to brush off the frightening thought.
Sure, I’ve mad
e an exception for Theo, but it’s temporary. When the week comes to an end, our little rendezvous will be done.
There won’t be any tied strings or expectations or hurt feelings.
We’ll leave it all behind the second I head back to Milan to pack up my apartment—before I head back home to New York for my internship—and he heads back to wherever he’s supposed to go.
And since we’ve avoided getting to know personal details about each other, it will all be easy peasy.
Theo smiles, and my stomach takes flight.
Easy peasy, huh?
I better make sure my entire body gets the memo.
Theo
My normal focus refreshed by the reminder of what someone without motivation becomes—courtesy of my brother Brogan—I stopped by Club Indigo and checked on how things have been going the past few nights, met with two investors who might end up being a big part of our next two nightclubs that will be located in Paris and Venice, and sat through a conference call with my father and a few of Cruz Enterprises’ board members about last quarter’s financial status, all before noon.
Lena spent the morning with her friends, shopping in Positano, and now, we’re having a picnic lunch on the beach.
I don’t know about her, but for me, it is the absolute highlight of my day.
Not being able to call or text or email someone in this day and age is fucking impractical, but with or without the ability to use modern technology, I found her today.
And she didn’t hesitate to go along with my picnic lunch plans.
Pippa, Frederick, and Sophie—Lena’s friends that she didn’t want to introduce me to a few days ago, but all of whom had no qualms introducing themselves this afternoon—insisted after a short and sweet chat that she spend the day with me.
When in Italy, Frederick kept saying.
With the basket of food in my hands—nicely put together by the hotel staff—I lead her down the long staircase from the resort to the beach.
We pass by sunbathers stretched out on blue-and-white-striped loungers and beachgoers enjoying the warmth of the water, until I find a perfect spot just around the edge of a jagged cliff and hidden away from curious eyes.
